


red notebook of love

by Lutrosis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Ben Solo, Books, Bookstores, Christmas, DarkFlower, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Letters, Miscommunication, Paris (City), or more like Strangers to Pen pals to Enemies to Lovers, roselo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28074549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lutrosis/pseuds/Lutrosis
Summary: Almost two weeks before Christmas Ben finds a red notebook in his favorite english bookstore in Paris, Shakespeare and Company. The book was left there by a girl - Rose - who dares him to play a mutual game of riddles and questions and get to know each other. Through their notebook entries they tell each other about their past, their dreams, their fears and hopes. After a rocky start, they get comfortable with each other without having ever met - then drama ensues.A Dash & Lily AU - Whoever has seen the Netflix show will recognize the plot and certain story parts, etc., but I still aim to make significant changes to story, etc., so that the change of location and the slightly transformed story will provide a good reading experience even to these people (the HEA will of course be staying).
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Rose Tico, Ben Solo/Rose Tico, Finn & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Jannah/Rey (Star Wars), Kylo Ren/Rose Tico, Phasma & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Phasma/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren (past), Rey & Rose Tico, Zorii Bliss/Poe Dameron
Comments: 12
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read on twitter that the show is similar to a modern Christmas Reylo AUs, but when I saw it for myself, I thought that the dynamic between Dash and Lily seemed much more like the dynamic between Ben and Rose would have worked, had they ever met. So I decided to write it - this is my first Roselo fic.
> 
> The plan is to upload continuously over the next days and the last chapter on Christmas eve or Christmas day.

“Imagine this: You’re in your favorite bookstore scanning the shelf where your favorite books reside,  
and there… nestled between the familiar spines sits a red notebook.  
Imagine you’re in Paris and it’s Christmas. You’re surrounded by people, by possibility…  
and the hope that, somewhere in the city, is that one person that’s meant for you.  
You just have to find them. How do you do that? It all depends on the kind of person you are.”

Ben strolled through the upper level of Shakespeare and Company’s. He always liked the antiquarian part of the bookshop. The store felt smaller and cozier up here. It’s not that he wanted or searched for something specific, he was simply bored and wanted to escape the Christmas crowd that overrun Paris these days. The upper level of Shakespeare’s simply always felt cozy and safe in contrast to the outsides. Here he felt comfortable and the books never bothered him, the books were never loud, they never made him feel awkward. He opened his black mantle, because inside the store it got too warm to wear it closed, while having a beige wool jersey underneath it.

Ben waited out the increased number of shoppers filling the lower floor of the bookstore. The second floor hosted the second-hand and antiquarian books, while you could buy everything else on the first floor. Out of experience Ben knew that an hour before closing time, the bookstore got much emptier, because especially the tourists didn’t want to miss any minutes of experiencing Paris at night.

And it wasn’t as if Ben didn't get the appeal of Paris at night – it looked beautiful, there was no doubt – but this time of the year, there were way too many Christmas lights hanging everywhere. And Ben wanted to ignore as much of Christmas as possible.

Usually he wasn’t as much against Christmas as he was this year, but usually he had more distractions from the festivities, too. Last year he had Phasma. The years before he hadn't been in Paris alone, but spent the holidays somewhere else with his parents – Christmas was the one time in the year where they both stayed with him for several consecutive days. But his parents had gotten a divorce two years before, only a month after his seventeenth birthday.

Slowly Ben descended the stairs of Shakespeare’s. The red steps were still painted with the quote by Hafiz. _I wish I could show you / when you are lonely or in darkness / the astonishing light of your own being_ . The quote was supposed to be read as you ascended the stairs – but Ben always liked to read it while descending, too. Even though it lost some of its hopefulness and got more melancholic. And it wasn’t as if Ben didn’t like the quote in its right order, but his emotional state responded much better to the distorted form of the quote – each step had been painted with a part of the sentence. Ben read them as he left the upper floor: _Being / of your own / Light / the Astonishing / in Darkness / Lonely Or/ When you are / I could show you / I wish_ . He whispered to himself: _Being of your own_ – _light the astonishing in darkness_ – _lonely or when you are_ – _I could show you_ – and then the last step: _I wish_.

With a last glance back up, Ben moved into the narrow aisles of the store. The beauty of the lower floor was amplified by the many different book covers on display. While the upper floor had its own charm, the lower one offered a bigger variety of gorgeous books.

Mindlessly he wandered to his favorite section, between the philosophy and biography sections, close to the room with art books, that lead to the poetry shelves, were several rows of bookshelves with books in short essay form, some of them even more diary like – short ideas written down only several lines long, at the maximum one page. Here it was where he had discovered _Insomnia by Marina Benjamin_. The long walk through all the topics of sleeplessness had been one of his favorite reads this year.

As he was walking through the familiar rows of bookshelves in the fiction section, his finger danced over the old wood, Ben noticed an unfamiliar red notebook right between the two different editions of Colette’s _Gigi_ . Between the light grey of the Vintage Crucial Classics Edition and the light rose-colored double edition of _Gigi_ and _The Cat_ stood a red book, that was instantly noticeable to anyone looking closely at the rows of books and who wasn’t searching for a specific other book.

Frowning Ben pulled the book out of the row. It had neither a barcode, nor did it look like something the store would sell. And while Ben had encountered books that had been mis-shelved, it had always been understandable reasons for the – wrong – placement of the books, but this book had neither title nor author anywhere on its front- or backside. Only the words ‘Do you dare…?’ adorned its frontside.

Murmuring Ben read the words. Do I dare…, he thought to himself. Do I… Do I dare… Dare… what? What do I dare? Again he turned the book several times, searching for another clue. When he found none, he decided to open it.

A few pages were ripped out of it, but a few sentences stood on the first page:

> _I’ve left some clues for you. If you want them, turn the page. If you don’t, put the book back on the shelf._

It was a graceful script. Cursive, not too small or too big. Just nice and beautiful. Ben could appreciate beautiful penmanship – even if the person wasn’t writing calligraphy, he certainly had seen much worse styles of writing.

Ben looked around, searching for hidden cameras, for a clue that this was some kind of joke. But no one looked at him, no one behaved suspiciously. He looked back down at the book. “Turn the page…” – he did exactly that.

> _So, you’ve chosen to play. A revealing choice._

Ben shook his head – not that revealing. He was bored and had nothing better to do. And… maybe he was a little bit intrigued. That book certainly was the most interesting thing happening to him in the last days.

> _Shall we begin?_

Ben turned the page again. This one was different. Instead of a few sentences, multiple, differently long strokes were written on the page – and beneath it were sentences again.

> _A coded message. You can decipher it with the right books. But only if you can find them. Your first clue requires some challenging and intimate reading. Look for argonauts._

Challenging and intimate reading? Argonauts? Ben shrugged and took out his phone – that should make this much easier.

> _Oh, and if you need to use your phone, don’t bother playing._ Ben chuckled and put his phone away again.

He turned around himself. Argonauts. The Argonauts. Grinning, he made his way to the history section. When he stood in front of the shelves and searched for a book with a collection of Greek myths, his mind wandered back to the sentence that had stood before the part about the argonauts. _Your first clue requires some challenging and intimate reading._ While – from a certain point of view – Greek myths could be considered a challenging reading, however they weren’t really intimate. Rather the opposite, in fact. Myths were collective, public, for everyone.

But where else could he find Argonauts? Intimate… Ben moved over to the biographies, but nothing jumped to his eyes – and he doubted if he would find something really challenging here. Not that biographies couldn’t challenge people, but he felt like the person writing these clues had something different in mind.

Maybe the information desk would help him. Ben neared the last door that would lead him to the exit of the store, where he hoped someone could help him find this book, when he saw from the corner of his eyes the gender and sexuality section. _Some challenging and intimate reading_. He would certainly find something intimate and challenging here. Quickly he scanned the few books standing on the shelves.

Then his eyes caught on a blue-purple book, where in a small font stood Maggie Nelson – Argonauts. Smiling, Ben pulled the book out. Six numbers in two rows were written in the corner of the red notebook: 23,14,8/81,5,6. Page, Row, Number of the word, Ben guessed. Quickly he found both words: _Are_ & _you_.

Ben read the next clue:

> _T_ _his one is easier: Queens of Geek_ .

Ben whispered the title several times to himself. _Queens of Geek. Queens of Geek. Queens of Geek._ Definitely a YA-title, Ben reckoned. This time he was faster in finding the book and the next words: _Going To._

The next page in the red notebook was longer:

> _Your next book isn’t a Christmas story, but Santa does show up to hand out weapons._

Ben hurried to the classics section and pulled out _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe._ In no time he had the next word: _Be._

Ben definitely had fun now. He had the most fun, since a long time – maybe since Phasma had broken up with him – still holding _The Argonauts_ , _Queens of Geek_ , and _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_ in his hand, he turned the page to read the next clue.

> _Find Miller’s great song about a warrior and his maybe-boyfriend._

A song?, Ben asked himself and walked to the music section, but nothing there jumped to his eyes – frustrated he took a walk through every section of Shakespeare and Company’s but nothing jumped to mind. Slightly frustrated, he gave up and went to the help-desk near the front of the store.

He groaned when he saw Beaumont Kin behind it – they hadn’t really had the best relationship. It bothered Ben that he even knew the guy well enough to be able to say that he didn't have a great relationship with him. But Beaumont was completely ignoring him, even after Ben had asked him twice about a book by someone named Miller, about a warrior and his boyfriend.

“Miller’s great song,” Ben repeated slowly, emphasizing every single word.

“I’m not telling you anything,” was the only thing Beaumont was constantly replying while pretending to search for something on his computer.

“Well, this is the information desk,” Ben gestured to the sign hanging about them. “Are you not obligated to give me some information?” he asked. Beaumont only clicked with his mouth, not even looking at him.

“I don’t understand. Did I wrong you somehow?” Ben asked him, frustrated. “Did I buy you a Stephen King book for Christmas, or something? Or are you taking pleasure from my suffering?” With an eye-roll, Beaumont looked at him. “Could you at least tell me the section…” Ben pointed at the screen.

“I’m not allowed,” Beaumont interrupted him. “I promised her I wouldn’t discuss anything related to that.” With his head, he pointed to the red notebook in Ben’s hands. “But since you asked, there’s a little pleasure I’m taking from this.”

Ben disregarded everything Beaumont had said besides the pronoun the store clerk had used. “You said ‘her’.”

“No, I didn’t,” Beaumont tried to rectify the situation.

“Yes, you did,” Ben said gleefully – when was the last time he had said something ‘gleefully’. Ben quickly pushed the thought aside. “You said ‘her’. She’s a her, and she is testing my knowledge of Shakespeare and Company’s.”

Reinvigorated, Ben returned to the riddle. _Miller’s great song about a warrior and his boyfriend. Miller’s song about a warrior and his boyfriend. Miller – song – warrior. What warrior?_ A song of a warrior by someone named Miller. Miller’s Song of a… Instantly, Ben knew the book he had to find. _Song of Achilles_ by Madeline Miller. Achilles, the warrior, and his boyfriend Patroklos – when he’d found the next word, he quickly wrote it down: _lonely on_. Suddenly he heard a voice Ben had least expected in Shakespeare and Company’s. “Ben?”

He looked up and Bazine stood two steps away from him, watching him questioningly. “Bazine,” he replied warily, while trying to find an escape out of that conversation. He never had liked her much, but Bazine and he had been part of the same social group, when he had dated Phasma – and Phasma had been friends with Bazine.

“I didn’t know you were in town,” she said. “Everyone’s off to Bora Bora, Coruscant, Chandrila, whatever…” Ben’s mind wandered off for a few moments, while Bazine was continuing to speak.

“… for her. I’m trying to find a present for my little sister. She’s like super into fantasy.” Ben refocused his attention onto Bazine’s words. He had to cut this conversation short – he had no time to speak to Bazine, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to finish the riddle of the notebook.

“Yeh, I remember at your party last year, she challenged me to a duel,” Ben answered Bazine. She hemmed and hawed. “Sorry, I didn’t invite you this year to the party–“ Ben had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. Phasma had broken up with him and therefore he wasn’t part of Bazine’s social group anymore. There was no need for the spectacle Bazine was staging right now. “-I just… I thought it would be weird, you know. And I thought you were out of town, but since you’re in town, you should totally still come. It’s on Christmas Eve.” Bazine’s mouth grew into a big, toothy, unnatural and artificial looking smile.

Ben tried to look completely relaxed and unperturbed. “Thanks, but my dad’s taking me to Sweden tomorrow,” he lied. “Sweden?” Bazine asked – Ben wasn’t sure if she was believing him or not.

“Yeah,” he hammered down his lie. “It’s supposed to be beautiful in December. All those long Swedish nights.” Bazine just watched him with glittering, gleaming eyes. “Right…” she whispered.

“Well, that’s too bad,” she said, but Ben didn’t really feel like she was truly sorry. “Phasma is coming,” Bazine added. A mischievous smile on her lips. Ben had more than enough of this conversation.

Instead of dragging that conversation out and playing the game that Bazine was always playing, Ben just thrusted _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_ into her hands. “Here for your sister. I have a feeling she’d like it. It’s fantasy for kids with weapons,” Ben explained. Clearly surprised – and maybe even a little bit thankful – Bazine wished him a Merry Christmas and finally left Ben alone.

Ben turned back towards the red notebook.

> _C_ _ongratulations! You’ve almost solved the puzzle. However, a few rules. If you’re not a teenage boy, return the notebook to the shelf._

Ben chuckled, he definitely was a teenage boy - he still had half a year until he turned twenty.

> _I_ _f you feel like Achilles felt for Patroklos, I completely support that. Love is a galaxy – but if girls aren’t a system in yours, please return the notebook to the shelf._

That was good to know, but while Ben would never deny the beauty of men and had surely been sexually attracted to some, his romantic interest were more intense towards girls - and generally to non-binary people, too, Ben admitted to himself.

> _And finally… If you’ve made it this far, you’re obviously clever. But I want to know…_

Here the text on the page ended, Ben turned it, but there was nothing on the next one. Instead, a small piece of paper fell to the ground. Ben bent down to pick it up.

> _… are you brave?_

Ben’s eyes flew over the rest of the page. Then he looked through the store – there weren’t as many people in it, as would be during the most crowded hours of Shakespeare’s, but he guessed they would have to be enough.

Ben positioned himself in the largest room of the Shakespeare’s with the most people in it. “Hello,” he called out. The other customers eyed him, confused. “Um, sorry to interrupt your browsing, um, but I have been asked to share a dramatic reading.” He unfolded the piece of paper and reassured himself that he knew most of the lyrics of the song he had to read. “And apologies to Judy Garland.” Ben ran his finger through his hair nervously. 

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” Ben read. “Let your heart be light. Next year all our trouble will be out of sight.” He took a short pause and let his eyes wander around the store, even more people had joined the room and watched him. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Make the yule tide gay. Next year all our trouble will be miles away.”

Even Bazine had come back and just stared at him – she probably would tell everyone that he’d gone completely mad, but Ben didn’t want to stop now. He’d almost solved the puzzle.

“Once again as in olden days. Happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who were near to us. Will be dear to us once more. Someday soon, we all will be together. If the fates allow.”

Ben saw Beaumont slowly walking towards him – he knew he had to finish this reading, but he still didn’t know the solution to the girl’s riddle. He had to solve it. She intrigued him. Her choice of books. Her choice of Shakespeare and Company’s. Her rules. Ben felt something inside him. And wasn’t willing to stop now – not so close to the finish line.

“Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow. So, have yourself a merry little Christmas now.” And he had read it all. The entire text – Judy Garland would roll around in her grave, but Ben was sure there were people who had performed this song worse than him.

“That’s enough.” Beaumont told him.

“But I still have to finish this…” Ben exclaimed. Exasperated Beaumont stared at him. “You have your solution – you already had it three times in the verses you’ve read.”

“Three times,” Ben murmured, and his eyes scanned the text. “Christmas!” he yelled, and Beaumont shot him an angry glare. “It’s Christmas,” Ben said again, but quieter this time.

He added all the words he had found after one another:  
 _Are you going to be lonely on Christmas?_

Ben smiled to himself. He felt like a familiar soul was speaking to him. Then his smile faded – what now? He turned the blank page he had discovered earlier, when the piece of paper had fallen out. And there he found another passage written by the girl.

> _So, here we are. What happens next is up to you. Leave a message telling me how this time of the year is making you feel. If I like your answer, you just might hear from me. If you’re not scared._

That girl was cheeky… Ben smirked. He definitely liked her. Now put the book back,” Beaumont called out to him. Ben turned to him, his smirk growing. He definitely would not do that. He had finally found something to majorly improve the holidays. Slowly he walked backwards out of the story. Never breaking eye contact with Beaumont, who seemingly almost tried to come after him, but Ben wouldn’t have it. In the door he turned around and he left into the Parisian night.

Ben was hooked.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm writing this fic, I'm realizing that it's getting longer than anticipiated - but the goal to finish this over the Christmas days stays, we'll say how succesful I will be.
> 
> If you want you can come and yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lutrwsis?s=09).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick look back: We get introduced to Rose and get to know how the red notebook got into Shakespeare and Company's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading that first chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.  
> Right now I'm still on track with my writing, let's hope it will stay this way!

The day before

“I don’t care what anyone says. This is the greatest time of the year,” Rose thought. “I love Christmas! I really, really do. And… And that’s because in my family, Christmas is all about love. It was when grandpa Chewie met his wife, it was when my mom met my father – well my adoptive mom met my adoptive father. It was when my sister met her girlfriend. Though they later broke up.”

With a sigh, Rose crossed the street to get her family’s home. “I don’t have my own love story. I… I mean, I tried. For a while, I had this fantasy that I'd meet the perfect guy browsing at Shakespeare and Company’s.” Rose remembered the handful of times she had tried that. It had been so embarrassing – either no one had wanted to talk to her or the guys she had talked with, hadn’t been interested in her. It had been humiliating. Her great-aunt Maz always told her that Rose was an old soul, and her sister Rey – adoptive sister – said Rose was too cool for people her age. But Rose, despite the optimism she often displayed – and others mistook as naivety – knew that they were just being nice to her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

She tried to comfort herself, that it was okay, that she hadn’t found her love story, yet. Maybe she would one day. Right now, she had her family, and every December, they decorated the entire apartment together. Christmas time was family time - and it was the perfect opportunity to forget all her sorrows. There would be Christmas lights, Christmas garments, Christmas decorations, Christmas odors, Christmas sounds, Christmas presents, and Christmas feeling - it would be perfect.

Rose was only one minute away from her home, carrying all the garments and decorations she wanted to hang up. She entered the house with her apartment in the north-east of Paris, in Ménilmontant. And quickly hurried up the stairs.

As Rose entered her family’s apartment, she stopped. In front of her stood several packed bags and suitcases. They definitely didn’t belong there. What were they doing there? Her thoughts were racing through her head, trying to understand what she was seeing. 

What possibilities were there for packed bags a few days for Christmas? Someone would go somewhere. On Vacation? Rose didn’t want to go on vacation. She wanted to celebrate Christmas in Paris. Then the next possibility: Divorce. Did her parents get divorced? Did they break up? Poe and Zorii could be headstrong and stubborn, but Rose would never expect her parents to get a divorce. She couldn’t remember any fights or something else that would cause a divorce.

With an open mouth she stared at the suitcases, then her eyes slowly panned up. Zorii and Poe had stood with their backs to her, but turned around when they heard the door open behind them. With an aghast expression on her face, Rose asked them: “Why are you packed?” She couldn’t believe it – they knew how much Christmas meant to her.

Poe and Zorii continued to rush through the apartment and put stuff into bags. “We’re so sorry,” her mother said. They told her they never had a true honeymoon and they would fly to Fiji to remedy that. And that Rose certainly could handle one Christmas without her parents. Rose tried to put up a happy face, but even she could feel that she wasn’t fooling anyone.

Still trying to process her parents leaving not two weeks before Christmas, she hadn’t noticed that they didn’t take every suitcase with them. Then a few minutes after her parents had left, her grandpa came and told her he would fly to the woman he knew in Florida, who wasn’t his girlfriend, as he liked to tell anyone. She was just a ‘female friend’.

Looking out of the window, she saw the taxi with her grandpa leaving – now it was only her and Rey in the apartment. “I thought we could go to Montmartre to see the lights tonight,” she told her adoptive sister, who was lying on the couch. “Keep up tradition,” Rose asked with a hopeful look in her eyes – she needed just that one thing to keep her Christmas spirit on track.

Rey turned around to her. Rose saw the apologetic face she was making, and she sighed internally. That wasn’t the face of someone who would come to Montmartre with her. “I just got a date, and she’s coming over right now,” Rey replied – her face transforming into an uneasy and sorry façade of a smile. “So, can you go somewhere?” her slightly older sister asked with gritted teeth.

Suppressing the urge to groan, Rose upheld her happy face and agreed and returned back outside to wander through Paris' twentieth arrondissement. Seeing all the groups of people enjoying their time together, sitting in café, strolling through the streets, made her feel lonely. But Rose wouldn’t be Rose, if she didn’t find a solution for her problem.

She group-messaged all the people she hung out with from her neighborhood. They weren’t really her age or social circles, but D’Acy, Kalonia, Wexley, and Kaydel were nice people, and they never judged – and Rose would feel less lonely with other people around her.

When they agreed on where to meet, and what to do, Rose sped back to her apartment. Completely ignoring, what Rey had told her not even an hour ago, she burst into the apartment and then into Rey’s room – coming to a complete stop to stunned to move, when she noticed, that Rey was in her bed, not really wearing much, and that she wasn’t there alone – but another women were with her in it.

“Rose, get out,” Rey yelled at her. Quickly she turned around and shut the door behind her. That hadn’t really been something she had wanted to see – not the boobs of a stronger, nor the reminder that her sister engaged in sexual activities with other people. She shook herself and quickly disappeared into her own room.

An hour later – that Rose spent with earphones, loud music and writing in her notebook so she could completely ignore and forget what had just happened, Rey cautiously walked into her room. “Can we try that again?” her sister asked her. Sighing, Rose took out her earphones and anticipatorily watched Rey.

“Do anything fun today?” she asked Rose.

“I’m going out with people, tonight,” Rose told her proudly, a genuine grin forming on her face. Astounded Rey came into her room – Rose wasn’t hurt by the surprise on her face, she knew that she had difficulties connecting with people. Rose knew Rey loved her, and wanted the best for her – even if they had different interests, characteristics and looks on life. They both trusted each other and could tell each other everything. Rose had told Rey about her sister’s death, that had happened before Rey was adopted by Zorii and Poe, and in return Rey had told her about her parents and how she felt after being abandoned by them.

“And who exactly are these people,” Rey asked her. “Just some friends from the neighborhood,” Rose answered and counted them. “Harter Kalonia, D’Acy, Snap, Kaydel,…”

“Rose…” Rey interrupted her and sighed. She moved closer to her and sat next to her on Rose’s bed. “Are you hanging out with old people again?”

They had had that conversation multiple times at this point. Rey always pointed out that Rose needed friends her age, too. That it was important and would be good for her – and Rose always maintained the claim that these adults weren’t judging her for being who she was. They were reading books like she did; they weren’t superficial, and they were fun to be around when they drank a lot.

“Sorry this Christmas sucks,” Rey apologized to her. Sometimes Rose wished they didn’t know each other that well, nevertheless she tried to convince Rey that she was fine, and that this Christmas wasn’t sucking.

But one of the best things about Rey was that she saw right through people – at least when Rey wanted to – and didn’t judge people when they were upset by something. “You’re not some Santa in a store. You don’t have to pretend to be jolly,” she told her and stroked her leg.

Rose felt tears forming behind her eyes, but didn’t want them to come out, to show Rey how deeply hurt she was. But she also didn’t want to lie to Rey. “It’s just… everyone has someone for Christmas except me.” Rose weakly gestured into thin air. Quickly she tried to change the subject. “So, who is she?” Rose’s eyes quickly shot toward Rey’s room, then back to her sister.

“Her name is Jannah.” Rey grinned at her. “She’s a dancer.” Rose felt her excitement – and she was happy for her sister. And Rose needed that right now – easy, innocent excitement for something. “Oooh,” Rose said to prompt Rey to continue. “Well, right now she’s a barista,” Rey corrected herself.

“You love coffee,” Rose pointed out, not wanting to see that giddy expression on Rey’s face to vanish. And she was successful. Admittedly, something serious had joined the excitement in Rey’s eyes, but it was a good and content seriousness. “I think I really like her.”

“I’m happy for you,” Rose told her – apparently reminded Rey of Rose’s state. “You’re amazing,” she told her younger sister. “You’ll find someone amazing too.”

But Rose wasn’t ignorant of her situation. Yes, she was optimistic. Yes, she searched for the best in almost every situation. Yes, she wanted to enjoy life. But she wasn’t delusional. She had seen the effect she had on boys, on people her age in general. She wasn’t good at meeting or talking to them. She only scared them away.

Another good thing about Rey was that she knew when to quit. She knew Rose didn’t want false comfort, no lies. Instead, she grabbed the red notebook in Rose’s lap. “I remember these red notebooks. Maz used to give them to us. She told me it would be good for me to have an outlet for my feelings. I think I wrote like two entries tops.” Rey’s eyes looked back at Rose. “But you stuck with it. Why?”

“If there’s something I can’t say out loud, I write it down here.” Rose took her notebook back and pointed with her pencil to it. She didn’t see the gleam in Rey’s eyes. Not the formation of an idea. Her sister grabbed the notebook, ripped a few pages out, and stood up from her bed. With an open mouth, Rose stared at her. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Give me that pen,” Rey said instead of replying and took the pen out of Rose’s hands. Then she heard another voice. “Hey? What are we doing?” Rose looked to the door of her room and saw the girl from Rey’s bed, Jannah, standing there – Rose was glad that she was clothed this time.

“Devising a quest to find my sister her soulmate,” Rey answered her, a wicked grin on her face. Excitement immediately erupted on Jannah’s face. “Can I help?” Without waiting for a reply, she ran to Rey. Both stood in front of Rose’s collection of books.

Rey explained her plan. “It’ll be like a scavenger hunt. Grab some books,” she told Jannah. “We can use them for clues.” Rose wasn’t convinced, but she also didn’t really stop the other two girls. Rey already had  _ The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe _ in her hands, then she pulled out  _ Queens of Geek _ , too.

“Argonauts,” Jannah exclaimed. “That’s an excellent book.” She tipped on it multiple times and looked appreciatively at Rose. “Hey, that’s mine,” Rey said. “I looked for that.” Shaking her head, she turned back to Rose, who simply shrugged. “I am only allowing this because I know it will never work,” she told Rey and Jannah.

But should have expected more from Rey. “Hey, look. I haven’t told you the best part yet. You’re going to hide it…” Rey made an artificial pause. Rose looked at her sister, exasperated with her arms crossed in front of her chest, but Jannah had an adoring expression on her face. “… at Shakespeare and Company’s.”

Unsure, Rose looked at Rey. She wasn’t convinced – not really. Anyone could find the book, she would have to write down some rules too and then hope that anyone who would find the book would adhere to these rules.

Rey and Jannah still stood in front of Rose with encouraging looks on their faces. Rose rolled with her eyes and huffed. “Fine… But I get to add something, too – a song!” At her idea, life came back into her – grinning she pulled the red notebook to her and began to write.

Making grabbing motions with her hand, Rey prompted Rose to give her phone to her and to show her the song she planned on using. Rose chose  _ Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas _ from her Spotify and handed it over to Rey. The two girls listened to the first verses of the slow Christmas song – a slightly disgusted expression formed on Rey’s face. “That’s an old song, Rose!” She criticized.

Jannah hit her shoulder. “Behave, Rey! It’s a pleasant song – and it’s Rose’s.” Rey grumbled and gave Rose her phone back. “I bet it’s from the sixties or fifties even.” She added. Rose knew that Rey wasn’t really petulant. They lived too long with each other and knew each other too well.

“It’s from 1944.” Rose told her, beaming. Laughing lightly, Rey shook her head, then turned to Jannah and gifted her a flirting smile. Jannah’s eyes flashed, and she pulled Rey out of the room. Both yelled goodbye to Rose and good luck. Still smiling, Rose stood up, too, and left her apartment to give them their privacy and write her clues into the red notebook, hide it in Shakespeare and Company’s before she’d go back to the apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two chapter focused on being introductorily - now we roughly know the situation and Ben and Rose can interact with each other, even though it will be through the red notebook for a few chapters.
> 
> If you want, you can come and yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lutrwsis?s=09).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben answers Rose's question in the notebook - and Rose reacts to find it. Will she write him back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter of this story. Thank you all for your comments/kudos! I'm really curious to see if I can get all the chapters finished until Christmas. :D

Carrying the red notebook with him, Ben used the Métro to drive toward the northwest of Paris. He could get pizza and a movie from basically anywhere, but he liked the journey to the Storm’s pizza parlor/video store. He could talk to Finn there, get a fantastic pizza and obscure movies. Driving around kept him busy and while he did see all the Christmas decorations, it was better than just doing nothing and seeing them.

Entering the pizza parlor in the eleventh arrondissement, Finn grinned at him, then turned around to the oven to prepare his pizza. Luckily no one was around, so they did not need to hurry. Ben leaned against the counter and took the red notebook out to read the last message of the mysterious Clue Girl.

> _So, here we are. What happens next is up to you.  
>  Leave a message telling me how this time of the year is making you feel.   
> If I like your answer, you just might hear from me. If you’re not scared._

“That’s your diary?” Finn asked him. Ben shook his head and told Finn about what happened at Shakespeare and Company’s. “Look at this handwriting,” he asked his best friend, “do you recognize that font?”

Finn looked at him, confused. “No, why would I?” he replied, “but I bet it’s from a girl. That looks like girl cursive – I could be wrong, obviously, but statistical. It’s a girl.” Ben agreed with him and told him that Beaumont had already confirmed Finn’s suspicion.

When Finn put his pizza into its carton, Ben moved to the movie assortment. He chose one and brought it back to the counter. Finn looked at the case. “That seems interesting. What it’s about?” he wanted to know.

“It’s _Le tout nouveau testament_ , a dark-comedy from Belgium about god’s daughter escaping her abusive dad and getting her own apostles, while writing a new testament.” Ben had read different opinions of the movie, and he guessed it would be a good ending for this day.

Finn regarded him fondly and pushed Ben’s pizza to him and wished him a good night. Ben made his way back to the center of Paris, close to where Shakespeare and Company was. Ben entered his father’s apartment in Saint Germain des Prés, but as he opened the door a jarring alarm sounded out and Ben scared so much, he dropped his pizza and movie.

Quickly he called his dad. “Hey Han,” Ben greeted him, “by any chance, did you change the code for your alarm system?” he asked him, trying to muffle the loud sound of it. “Of course, I am staying with mom,” he lied to his father, “I just wanted to know, should I need a place to read.”

Ben listened to his father’s reply, while they both were pretending the sound of his alarm system wasn’t audible through the phone. “Yes, or should I want to spend time with a special lady,” Ben agreed with his father, so he could quickly end the conversation and the loud alarm.

“No dad, I won’t touch your Corellian Whiskey. I’d never do it.” Ben wondered if his father did know, too, that Ben was obviously lying. His relationship with Han was complicated. There was much unsaid that led to neither of them really knowing what the other knew or thought, but both assuming much about the other. But Ben couldn’t bring himself to change that. His father seemed to not want to either, and so they just continued their little spiel.

As his father told him the new combination, Ben told him he was writing it down while he put it into the system, the alarm system quickly quieting down. Thankfully Ben said goodbye to his father and ended the phone call. Then he sat down on the couch, started the movie while he ate Finn’s delicious pizza.

To the end of the movie, Ben’s mind drifted to one of his last memory of his relationship with Phasma. The night at Bazine’s party where Phasma had broken up with him, because her mother had gotten transferred to the embassy in Brasil. Ben had totally ignored that this was something that could happen and would probably end his relationship with Phasma. It had felt secure with her. She had done a lot of things for him. She always commanded conversations, could lead people to where she wanted them, sweet-talked and impressed everyone else. Being with Phasma had been easy, it had been comfortable, and less lonely. But Ben didn’t want to think about her anymore. It was over between them, and that was good so.

Ben had put the red notebook next to him on the sofa, and from that place it seemed to stare at him, daring him to open it again. Finally, Ben sighed and did exactly that. For the fourth or fifth time, he reread the girl’s dare.

> _So, here we are. What happens next is up to you.  
>  Leave a message telling me how this time of the year is making you feel.   
> If I like your answer, you just might hear from me. If you’re not scared._

Did he dare to answer? Did he want to answer? It wasn’t something Ben usually did, but what was the harm? Did he have anything better to do?

No, Ben decided and got a pen to start his reply to the girl. He obviously had to answer her question about how Christmas made him feel. But Ben also wanted to know more about the girl. He wanted to know how she looked like. But he didn’t want her to see him. He had to develop a trap for her. A place where he could get information on her, without her getting information about him – well, apart from the things he would write into the notebook.

And so, Ben began:

> _Do I dare? Not just for anyone, but apparently, Clue Girl, I dare for you.  
>  I admire your words. I salute your choice of music. I’m not sure how I feel about your fiendish bent towards public spectacle, but I have to confess you intrigue me.  
> You asked me how that time of the year makes me feel. I suspect you’re a kindred spirit, so I know you’ll understand when I say it’s the most detestable time of the year, the forced cheer, the frenzied crowds, the feeling that you’re expected to be joyful even when you’re not. Because when you’re lonely on Christmas is somehow worse than the rest of the year._

Before Ben went to Shakespeare and Company’s the next day, he called Finn to talk with him about the other idea Ben had to get more information on this mysterious clue girl. Ben planned to let her hide the book at the Storm’s pizza place, so Finn could keep an eye out, who would bring it there and hide it between the movies. Finn told him Ben’s plan was ‘sneaky and not cool’, but Ben disregarded his doubts too convinced his plan was ideal.

* * *

Rose was carrying a small Christmas tree into her apartment when she got a call. Quickly she accepted it, when she saw that it was from Beaumont. “Did someone take it?” she asked excited, before he or she could say greeting.

Beaumont affirmed her question, but warned her that he thought the boy who took it was overly snarly and pedantic. Rose ignored his warning, and immediately went to the bookstore to retrieve the notebook from Beaumont, who had taken it with him behind the counter, so no one else could open and read it.

Giddily and jittery, she practically ripped the notebook out of Beaumont’s hands as he handed it out to her. Rose skipped out of the door of the bookstore, opened the notebook and began to read while making her way back to the apartment.

Maybe this was her chance to meet someone. Maybe this was her chance to connect with someone her age, someone she could share stories with, someone who would spend time with her. Beaumont may have warned her, but her cousin wasn’t the easiest human being, too, so Rose didn’t really worry about it.

Quickly she found the page where the mystery boy had answered her, and her eyes began to take in his careful writing. Rose knew that she wrote beautifully, when she wanted it – and she tried extra hard, when she had prepared the notebook. But this boy’s handwriting was on a completely different level. Every single letter had a beauty to itself. It was beautiful, like the old manuscripts’ monks were transcribing. With a fluttering heart, Rose began to read.

> _Do I dare? Not just for anyone, but apparently, Clue Girl, I dare for you.  
>  I admire your words. I salute your choice of music. I’m not sure how I feel about your fiendish bent towards public spectacle, but I have to confess you intrigue me._

Rose’s grin began to spread – that boy wanted to dare for her. For her! He liked her words; he liked the music she liked. He seemed to be somewhat shy if she understood his last sentence right, but Beaumont had told her that he had committed to the reading of the song, so he was willing to compromise if he truly wanted something. And he said he was intrigued by her. Intrigued! By her! Rose thought no one else had ever been intrigued by her.

Desperately she wanted to know how he was feeling on Christmas. Was he lonely, too? Or had he something planned? Maybe they could do something together – maybe not on Christmas day, but the day after? Or was that too fast? Rose didn’t want to scare him away. While maneuvering her way through the crowd, she read on.

> _You asked me how that time of the year makes me feel. I suspect you’re a kindred spirit, so I know you’ll understand when I say it’s the most detestable time of the year, the forced cheer, the frenzied crowds,_

Taking a sudden, deep breath, Rose shut the book. What the hell, she thought. Why did that dude think they were kindred spirit? Rose didn’t hate Christmas. She didn’t hate the cheer or the crowds. Rose _wanted_ the cheer and the crowds – the problem was that this year there were no crowds and cheer.

Distraught she lost herself in her thoughts about what happened. About her unending misfortune in finding someone who was like her, who would understand her, someone who shared her interest. Maybe she should have taken Beaumont’s warning seriously… But what should she do now? Christmas was one day closer, and the world looked even bleaker than it had yesterday.

Frustrated, she entered her apartment and ran directly to Rey’s room. Maybe she could talk with her sister about it, that always seemed to help – at least to a degree. And if not, then Rose could vent, get all her negative emotions out. She didn’t like them; they made her unhappy and impolite, which would make her feel even worse.

Irritated, she pushed the door to Rey’s room open and already began to talk. “He doesn’t even like Christmas,” she called out before two shrieks were interrupting her. With wide eyes, Rose stared at exactly the same scene as days before. Rey and Jannah in bed – naked.

Jannah was the first one to find her composure. While Rey was admonishing Rose, with a sharp “Rose,” and a gesture ordering her to leave, Jannah looked with gleaming eyes at Rose. “Someone took the notebook and responded?” She asked Rose.

The girl nodded, still standing in the door. “But he doesn’t like Christmas. He called it ‘the most detestable time of the year’ and he thought I was a kindred spirit. How did he get me so wrong?” Rose sensed her frustration growing. She had been so excited for this, and now… now this experiment had utterly failed. It would have been such a cute love story, so perfect for her – but of course it wouldn’t work.

Rey sat up slightly in bed. “Rose, I love you,” she told her sister, who focused on her. “I love you and I would never make you do anything you don’t want to.” Rose waited for more explanation, for some kind of addition, but Rey didn’t offer any. She made a gesture with her hand, prompting her older sister to continue to speak. “but…?” Rose asked.

“Nothing,” Rey replied. “Put the notebook back on the self and try again. Or don’t. That is for you to decide, Rose.” Rose frowned – that wasn’t what she was expecting her sister to say. Yes, Rey would never force her to do something that Rose truly didn’t want to do, but Rey also sometimes pushed a little bit against her boundaries and requested her to challenge herself. “I thought you would tell me to answer him,” Rose told her sister. Rey sighed. “That’s not how love works, Rose. You either feel it or you don’t. You either want to answer him, because you sense that there is something, or you sense nothing, and then you shouldn’t make yourself like him only because he wrote in some notebook.”

Rose huffed – she still didn’t know what to do. Or what she wanted to do – following Rey’s advice. She turned around and closed the door to give the two girls their privacy. Entering her own room, she closed that door, too. Then she threw the notebook onto her desk and started music so she could calm down.

Bored she scrolled trough her phone, then through social media. As she watched the schoolmates of her all-girl school posting pictures of them together with their boyfriends, Rose huffed again and threw her phone next to herself on to her bed.

How did all these people find significant others so fast? Rose wondered. They were in an all-girl school. Where were they meeting boys? How did they manage to find someone who liked them? Why was Rose the one who was always alone? She was nice, Rose thought. She wasn’t broody; she wasn’t impolite; she wasn’t snobby. Why wasn’t she allowed to find someone?

Turning around in her bed, Rose saw the notebook lying on her desk – at least she could finish reading what Mystery Boy had written. She had nothing better to do. Rose sighed and climbed off her bed and walked to her desk. She opened the notebook at the right page and began to reread what he had written.

> _Do I dare? Not just for anyone, but apparently, Clue Girl, I dare for you.  
>  I admire your words. I salute your choice of music. I’m not sure how I feel about your fiendish bent towards public spectacle, but I have to confess you intrigue me.  
> You asked me how that time of the year makes me feel. I suspect you’re a kindred spirit, so I know you’ll understand when I say it’s the most detestable time of the year, the forced cheer, the frenzied crowds,_

Shaking her head, Rose felt her frustration rising again, because of this misunderstanding of her. Why did he think she was disliking Christmas – she had picked a Christmas song to read! And he said he liked her choice of music – then she remembered the text of the song. Okay, maybe it was a bit lonely and sad, Rose admitted to herself, but still jumping from one song to assuming she disliked Christmas was a lot. Then Rose read the last bit of Mystery boy’s message:

> _…the feeling that you’re expected to be joyful even when you’re not. Because when you’re lonely on Christmas is somehow worse than the rest of the year._

Rose tilted her head and reread the one and a half sentences. While she certainly was objecting to his dislike of Christmas, she connected to his feeling of loneliness. Being lonely was always hard, but Christmas definitely made it worse, she agreed. His words struck a deep chord in her. She suddenly felt like she wanted to be less lonely, she wanted him to feel less lonely, maybe they could feel less lonely together?

Biting on her lip, Rose sat down on her bed and read his entire message again. Shortly she thought about wanting him to see the joy of Christmas, but then she wouldn’t be any better than these people he was complaining about – but showing him that Christmas could feel less horrible than he feared, that should be okay. She had enough Christmas spirit to share it, and – wondering about herself – she noticed that she wanted to share her Christmas spirit with him.

She turned the page and read what his plans were. Instead of continuing to hide the book at Shakespeare and Company’s, he wanted her to hide it at a pizza-video store place, next to the best Christmas movie she could find there. Rose looked the store up and saw that it was close to her. She began to write her answer and then left the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 should be uploaded either during the week-end or on Monday. I still have to finish an epilogue for another story (and maybe I am also currently writing another story that wasn't planned and surprised, and where each chapter is much too long, so it's very time-consuming, but I can't stop. Sorry...). I'm giving my best to not take too long to write these chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Ben find out more about each other, and lay the groundwork to be able to open up to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudos - It's so different to write for smaller/rare ships, then for bigger ones. But it's a good different. :D  
> I slightly changed the outline of the rest of the story, so it will end on Sylvester instead of Christmas. Which gives me more time to actually write it.

Finn was unsure about the plan Ben had told him about. He thought it was sneaky and uncool. During the lunch rush he had to constantly keep an eye out for this girl, who had the task to put the notebook next to the best Christmas movie she could find.

While talking to a customer, Finn heard the bell above the door ringing, and sighed thinking the line in front of his counter had just gotten even longer, but then he from the corner of his eyes he saw the new arrival walking over to the movies, and then turning around and leaving the shop again.

Reacting on instinct, Finn left the counter and hurried past the line of people who looked at him confusedly. Rushing through the door, he looked left and right and finally saw the girl; he thought he had just seen in the store. She had a fluffy, pink jacket on and a big red with red toque with Christmas symbols on it. Finn caught up to her, tapped her on her shoulder.

When she turned around, Finn grinned at her. “You’re notebook girl, right?” he asked her? The girl looked like she wanted to run away, but warily nodded. “What do you want?” she wanted to know and looked him up and down. “Wait, are you the one who wrote in it? About Christmas being the most detestable time of the year?”

Finn didn’t know what he saw in her eyes, but it seemed the be righteous indignation. She would fit perfectly with Ben, he thought. “No, Ben is a friend of mine – the guy who found the notebook in Shakespeare and Company.” He explained. “Could you come in – I’ll even give you a pizza for free?”

The girl again looked him up and down, but then nodded and followed him inside. “My name is Rose, by the way.” She introduced herself. A few minutes later they sat opposite of each other in a booth and were sharing a pizza. Finn told her everything about the plan. How Ben wanted him to spy on her, tell him how she looked like, how she seemed to be like.

Rose was shaking her head. Even before she had heard of Ben’s plan, she hadn’t been convinced if she should continue this game with him, and what Finn was telling her wasn’t exactly in favor of him. She asked Finn to describe Ben to her, because until now she only knew what Beaumont had told her and what she got from the few sentences he had written her in the red book.

Finn regarded her silently for a long moment before he replied. “My mother always calls him ‘finnicky’. And she is not completely wrong. Ben lives in his own head a lot. He is quiet, sometimes broody. He likes weird books and movies, knows stuff, that everybody else doesn’t really need. To big crowds make him uncomfortable. Others have often described him as an asshole, because he can be rude and dismissive. He knows his manners, but he often chooses to disregard them.” Rose shook her head. “You know that this isn’t really convincing me of continue to write him?” she asked Finn, who tilted his head. “Why did you write him?”

Rose evaded her gaze and sighed. “He seemed to be lonely and angry. Christmas is supposed to be a good time, a time of peace and love and cheer.” Then she pointed to the book. “I know he wrote about his distaste for exactly that – and I definitely don’t want to force him to experience that, but I think… I think I wanted to give him some companionship, let a bit of love bloom inside his solitude – if you know what I mean. Not to force him to love Christmas, but to have some love during the Christmas days.”

Rose shut her mouth. She hadn’t really meant to ramble that long, but she still didn’t really know all her reasons, why she had continued this thing with Mystery B… with Ben. A small part of her questioned if Rose maybe wasn’t ready to admit every reason to herself.

Almost a full minute neither of them said anything, then Finn took the notebook and pushed it to Rose. “Look, I know what I told you about Ben. And it is all true. But there are a rare few people – not even a handful – he lets behind his walls and masks. And then you see the true Ben. The Ben, who openly shares his calligraphy with you. The Ben, who is more loyal than anyone else I know. The Ben, who always gets his pizza from here, even though the journey to here and back is an hour. If you manage to be in this small circle of Ben’s friends, he will move galaxies to help you.”

Rose digested his words. She was unsure if it all would be worth it. It seemed like it wasn’t easy to get to know Ben that well, but Rose longed for companionship. She wanted to know people that well, people who were her age, shared her interests, wanted to spend time with her doing things both like. “

“I can’t just let it slide, that he tried to trick me,” she told Finn, who nodded. “But I think I will continue to write him.” She opened the notebook and thought about the words, she would add, beneath the text she had already written. Finn let her do what she needed to do and returned to the counter to take over from his cousin, who had jumped in when Finn had run out of the door.

> _I get your sentiment on loneliness on Christmas – even though I don’t agree with your feelings on the holiday. Christmas, for me, has always been one of the better times of the year. I could spend time with my family, there were gifts, we all sang Christmas songs, ate delicious food and enjoyed a great time together.  
>  But this year, I am alone on Christmas – most members of my family are away and only my sister is still here, but I don’t know how she will celebrate Christmas. So yeah, I get feeling lonely on Christmas.  
> And I try to connect with others, but it never works – or they’re family, or much older than I am. I just want to have someone to share the holidays with, to smile at the Christmas light, to sing cheesy Christmas songs, to give a gift, too._
> 
> _But before we continue – Nice try, setting this trap. Do you really think it would work on me, that I would just walk into it? If you want to know more about me, you have to do it through a dare. Let’s start with my name.  
>  Do you dare to ask Santa for my name? Go to Au Printemps and ask the Santa there for his hat – there you’ll find my name._

With a wide grin, Rose stepped to the counter and held out the notebook for Finn to take, but then she pulled back again. “How can I trust you, that you won’t betray me?” she asked him, frowning. Finn sighed. “Because I want this to work. Ben is… When he came in with your notebook, his energy… He was so different from how he had been the last month. And quite honestly…” He stopped.

Rose gave him an encouraging nod, so he would continue. Finn grimaced and then hesitantly continued. “You are not his ex-girlfriend…” He let the words hang in the space between them. “Oh…” was the only thing slipping out of Rose’s mouth. She didn’t really know what to do with this explanation.

“Look,” Finn told her. “You came in during lunch rush, it was crowded, so it’s totally reasonable, that I didn’t see you and just fund the notebook after everything calmed down again.” Then he held his hand out, so she could give him the notebook.

Rose smiled at him and did exactly that. “Okay,” she agreed, “Thank you, Finn.” Then she skipped around and left the store to make the small trip back to her apartment.

* * *

Ben hurried into the pizza shop. “You didn’t see her?” he asked Finn, aghast. “How? What happened? That was like the perfect chance to find out more about her?” Finn evaded his gaze while he cleaned the counter. “You know how it is, Ben. She probably came in during lunch rush – this is my workplace and it is always so crowded during it.” He shrugged.

“You have the notebook?” Ben wanted to know. Finn nodded and took him out from beneath the counter and gave it to his best friend. “It isn’t good, you know?” When he saw Ben’s confused stare, he continued. “What she wrote in it. She figured it out.”

Groaning, Ben quickly skimmed to the page where Clue Girl’s answer was. “She **likes** Christmas?” Ben was dumbfounded. How massively had he misjudged her? When he arrived at the end of her message, he began anew. And then a third time.

“Everything okay?” Finn worried. Ben slightly shook his head and read it a fourth time and then raked his fingers through his hair. “I… She’s confusing… Or maybe not, maybe she just confuses me. She partly is exactly what I don’t want to like. But on the other parts, I do really like her. And I don’t know what to do.”

“What?” Finn asked, having trouble understanding his friend’s ramblings. Ben came around the counter to join him behind it. He put notebook open on it and showed Finn what he meant. “Look, she likes Christmas, celebrates it, etc. But on the other hand, she gets the feeling of loneliness. I don’t know, somehow, I feel connected to her – as if she has lost someone, as if there is something deeper behind the cheer and happiness. But then there is her need for public spectacle, her sadism maybe even. She wants me to go to the Santa in Au Printemps and ask him for her name.”

Fake-scandalized Finn widened his eyes. “She wants you to talk to Santa – yes that’s pure sadism.” Then he laughed, and Ben couldn’t do anything else than join him. When they had calmed down again, Ben noticed that it had been a long time since he had been this happy, and wasn’t constantly thinking about being alone on Christmas and about Phasma, and everything else. Not that he forgot all of this, but it wasn’t weighing down as it did in the last few weeks and months. “So, Finn, when are you free? Want to join me on my mission to get Clue Girl’s name from Santa?”

Finn told him to wait fifteen minutes for him, and then they made their way to Boulevard Haussmann in the ninth arrondissement. Standing in front of the giant warehouse, Finn turned to Ben. “Please be nice to Santa, okay?” He bid him.

“Of course,” Ben told him, but it wasn’t reassuring Finn. And he continued to look around for any sign of trouble while keeping an eye on Ben, as they made their way into the store. Ben pulled Finn with him to the line in front of Santa, and then let go of him, to pass all the people standing in a line waiting to have their minute with him.

Right as Ben wanted to move past the first family, he was stopped by a ceremonial wand that was pushed against his chest. First, he looked down at the offending object pointed at his chest, then followed it to a green elf, holding it and fixing him with an angry glare.

The woman holding the wand was taller than he expected, and her lilac hair oddly matched her elf costume. “Young man, not only are you not allowed to skip the line, but you are also too old for Santa.” She told him.

“I just need to ask him one small thing. It won’t be longer than a minute.” Ben told her completely focused on completing this dare and tried to push past the woman, but she was much quicker and stronger than he expected.

“Absolutely not – it is my task to maintain law and order her, and I will definitely not allow some punk teenager to destroy the easy fun and joy these children have her,” she told him and tried to push him back with her wand

That was the moment where Finn intervened. “Hey, sorry for my friend here, he will cause no trouble.” Then he looked intently at the face of the woman. “Wait, don’t I know you from somewhere – didn’t you play the murderer in…”

The attention of the woman slightly shifted, as she affirmed Finn’s question. Ben was able to slip past her without the elf noticing and quickly hurried past the parents and children standing in line. Right as one child left Santa, he arrived at the front of the line.

With a murmured excuse, he cut the line and positioned himself in front of Santa, while the parents were complaining behind him. “Sorry, just one minute,” Ben called out. Santa looked him up and down. “Aren’t you a little bit old for Santa?” He asked him.

Ben nodded and explained that he was here for something else. He took out the red notebook and showed it to the man sitting on the chair in front of him. “I think we have a mutual friend, and she told me I should ask you for her name and that it was inside your hat.”

Santa’s hand instinctively came to his hat, and then he stared more inquisitively at Ben. He frowned and looked him up and down again. “I don’t like you,” Santa told him. The harsh words surprised Ben, and he almost took a step back. “Oh, wow, you’re grumpy,” Ben commented. “Look, just give me the hat, so I can get her name, and then I am out of here.” He gestured around the Christmas Land around him.

But Santa patted his thigh and told Ben to come closer and sit on it, if he wanted to have his hat. Before Ben could react to that ridiculous request, he heard a commotion behind him, looked back, and saw the Elf running towards him. Ben reacted as fast as he could.

He ripped Santa’s hat from his head. A child behind him yelled, “He stole Santa’s hat!”. And then Ben was running through the trees of Christmas Land, but his size was an obstacle as he bumped into a lot of the fake props. Suddenly he felt another body crashing into him, Ben went to the ground, and only managed to hide the hat inside his coat.

As the security guard and the elf walked him out, he told them they didn’t have to do that and that he would leave voluntarily. But the elf just pushed him out the door and both followed him. “You don’t have to literally kick me out,” Ben told them and turned around to face them, while still hiding the hat he had held on.

The elf built himself up in front of Ben. “Consider yourself banned from Christmas land for life.” But the security sighed. “Amilyn, we don’t have that authority.” However, that didn’t stop the elf. “I’ll make it my personal quest to stop you from ever disturbing Christmas Land again. You’re definitely on the naughty list,” she told him.

Before the elf and the security guard could turn around to walk back inside, Ben had to tell them one last thing and called out. “I hope climate change destroys the north pole.” The elf tried to turn back to Ben and seemed to be ready to physically fight him, but the security guard was able to pull her back inside Au Printemps.

“Didn’t I ask you to be nice to Santa?” Ben heard Finn’s voice behind him asking. Grinning, Ben turned around and presented the hat he had stolen from Santa. Exasperated Finn shook his head, but also had a fond gleam in his eyes as he saw Ben’s sparkle. The transformation of his friend was wonderful. Ben looked younger, freer, and more unburdened.

“So, what’s her name – it is somewhere inside of this,” Ben almost talked to himself, but grew more and more restless as he wasn’t finding any clue or name. Only as his fingers ran under the white plush of the hat, he felt an unevenness. He pulled the plush back and there it was. Gold-embroidered stood her name: Rose.

“Rose,” Ben whispered to himself. He liked how the name felt in his mouth, how it rolled from his tongue. Rose was a good name. It oddly fit her. Well, maybe not the part he jokingly had called sadism as he had read her dare. But to the entire rest, it fit.

“Okay,” Ben told Finn. “I’ll quickly answer her and then I have to ask you for another thing.” Finn warily looked at him, unsure if he would like what Ben would ask him. But Ben had already said down on a bench and pulled out a pen.

> _Rose – a beautiful name. A rose is multifaceted, colorful, beautiful, with thorns, calm, a symbol for eternal life even after death.  
>  So we’re both lonely. We both want to connect with others. What do you think of writing each other trough this notebook? No meeting (at least not at first), no social media stalking. Personal questions are of course fair game, but they have to be exchanged. A story for a story.  
> You gave me your name, so here is mine: Ben.  
> If you want to continue, place the book under the woman of the Statues de Reines de France et de Femmes standing in the Jardin au Luxembourg, who is known for her connection to flowers and poetry – let’s see if you can do it, without using your phone._

Ben closed the notebook and handed it to Finn. “Could you give this to Santa – I don’t think I should go back into the story? And give him a box of cookies, too.” Finn laughed and nodded. He was relieved that it wasn’t something ridiculous or impolite Ben was asking him for. Seeing the smile on Ben’s face was definitely worth joining and helping him.

* * *

Rose waited on the stairs in front of the building of her apartment. She had arranged with Ackbar that they would talk after his job at Au Printemps as Santa ended. Hopefully, he would give her the notebook – or else she would probably have to ask Beaumont if Ben was hiding it at Shakespeare and Company again.

She greeted Ackbar with a hug. “Hey, uncle Ackbar, do you have something for me?” She asked him with a wide grin on her face, but stocked when she saw the stern expression on his face. “I don’t like that boy.” Her honorary uncle warned her. “I don’t know if you should continue conversing with him.”

“It’s just messages in a notebook,” she tried to calm him. Then her Ackbar gave her the red book. “Actually, he left something else, too.” he added and gave her the box of cookies. Rose smiled as she saw it and continued to grin at her uncle. “How bad can he be, when he is gifting me cookies?”

With a fond expression, her uncle shook his head and hugged her and said goodbye. Rose climbed the stairs to her apartment. She left the cookie box in the kitchen, after taking some out for herself, and wrote a note for Rey that she could take them. Rey would love to eat them all. Then Rose disappeared inside her room to read Ben’s answer.

Short time later, Rey entered the kitchen and saw Rose’s note and the box. She sent a small, thankful smile into the direction of Rose’s room, then took the box with her to rejoin Jannah on the roof, where they wrapped themselves in a blanket, ate cookies, drank mulled wine, and watched the stars.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A entire chapter of Ben and Rose communicating through the notebook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's obvious, that I am not as fast as I planned, instead I'll just upload the chapters as fast as I have them ready. Enjoy!

In her own room, Rose read the message Ben left for her.

> _Rose – a beautiful name. A rose is multifaceted, colorful, beautiful, with thorns, calm, a symbol for eternal life even after death.  
>  So we’re both lonely. We both want to connect with others. What do you think of writing each other through this notebook? No meeting (at least not at first), no social media stalking. Personal questions are of course fair game, but they have to be exchanged. A story for a story.  
>  You gave me your name, so here is mine: Ben._

She also saw his instructions where she should leave the book for him, but she concentrated first on his words. Rose agreed with his proposal to use the notebook to write each other messages and to share their stories.

 _Ben_ , she tested how the name felt in her mouth. “Ben,” she spoke out aloud, to hear how his name sounded. She liked it, Rose decided. It was a good name and seemed to fit the person she was thinking of when she read his words. Ben and Rose. It had a nice ring.

With a smile, Rose turned her attention back to the things he had written behind her name. He thought her name was beautiful, Rose thought, and blushed – and then blushed even more than she was realizing she was blushing. She shook her head and forced herself to calm down and read the other adjectives and descriptions.

Ben had drawn a wonderful version of herself, and Rose hoped she wouldn’t disappoint him as they were getting to know each other better. Then her eyes arrived again at the last part of the series of words: _a symbol for eternal life, even after death._

Rose’s eyes filled with tears, and she remembered back to the accident her father had while her sister had sat in the backseat. She loved her adoptive father, but she couldn’t look at Poe without every time also feeling some sense of loss. Her sister had deserved a longer live, than she had.

> _Ben – I can only agree with your sentiment regarding my name, I very much like yours, too. I also agree with your proposal: a story for a story, and the other rules._
> 
> _So, here is my story: You wrote about the rose as a symbol for eternal life after death. I love that thought. Many years ago, I had a sister, but she did in a car accident. Nowadays, I am okay with the fact it happened. I have found my way to grief, but also to continue to live my life. But reading that connection to my name…  
>  It was harrowing and cathartic at the same time. Am I the Rose living my life after my sister’s death? Or am I the Rose through which my sister’s memory is kept alive?  
>  I don’t know yet what my final sentiment regarding that connection will be, but you also gave me an idea for the next time I’m visiting her grave – I am going to leave a rose there. As a symbol for my love to here. As a symbol of her living memory, even after death. And as a reminder, that I will always keep her alive inside my heart._
> 
> _Do you have a story that is connected to your name?_
> 
> Feeling lighter and better – as she always did, when she wrote her thoughts and feelings down – Rose read the instructions again.
> 
> _If you want to continue, place the book under the legendary woman of the Statues de Reines de France et de Femmes standing in the Jardin au Luxembourg, who is known for her connection to flowers and poetry – let’s see if you can do it, without using your phone._

She knew the garden Ben had mentioned. And she could also remember that there were a lot of statues in it. First, she had to find the series of statues he was taking about, and then she had to find the one of the woman or queens connected to flowers and poetry.

As she wandered up and down the two rows of statues, Rose was unsure, which would be the correct one. She read the hint in the notebook again – ‘legendary’ Ben had written. So, the person she sought was maybe not real, but more known because of the myths and legends surrounding her.

Finally, Rose arrived at the statue of Clemence Isaure again. She was the only one without a date of birth and death and without further descriptor, like the other queens and regents. The name also sparked a far, unclear memory in Rose’s mind that connected her name to a poetry-challenge with beautiful jewel flowers as a prize. Rose decided to try her luck and hid the notebook under the statue.

* * *

A few hours Ben found the hidden notebook, and a smile formed on his face. He sat on a nearby bench and began to read Rose’s answer. He swallowed as he read about her sister, but felt relieved that he may have unknowingly helped Rose. Then he began to write his answer.

> _Thank you for sharing this with me.  
>  My name has no story connected to it, but it is weighed down by other connections. And as proposed, I am going to honestly share this with you, as you have shared something of you with me.  
>  I come from a family that is equally dysfunctional as it is successful. My grandpa was at least partly responsible for the death of my grandma. My grandpa was a general for the army who turned out a traitor, and my mother a regent and politician. Her children – my mother and my uncle – were separated at birth and adopted by different families. My uncle grew up as a farmer, but later joined the army only to rise through their ranks and then leave them again, when he saw what they did in colonial territories. My mother was raised by politicians, who were also noble, and became one herself. My father was a famous smuggler who became clean and afterward did half-legal jobs for NGOs. I have several non-related uncles, who all are the best in what they do.  
>  I am named for the former best friend of my grandfather. They were practically brothers, who helped my parents and uncles to take my grandfather down. All my other names are all connected to the various legacies of my family – none of them is my own. I cannot escape their expectations, instead I carry this prison with me wherever I go. Christmas used to be the only time where I spent several days in a row with my parents, but since the divorce, I haven’t spent Christmas with any of them. They’re too busy.  
>  I dream of studying literature, to study myths and classics, but also newer stories. I want to write, and I want to teach. I want my own little family without the drama that is connected to mine. Just four or five people living a quiet and comfortable life together. I want nothing more – but it seems that this dream is more unreachable than anything else._
> 
> _That is what my name is connected to. Not a story but legacies and expectations._
> 
> _What is your dream for your life?_

After finishing his instructions, where Rose should leave the book, he read hers and groaned. She really expected him to go to the Montmartre Christmas lights and leave the book with a specific vendor there?

After a brief detour to his father’s apartment, he made the journey to Montmartre. As Ben walked through the Christmas lights, he thought back to what he read from Rose until now and what he had written back to her.

His uneasiness ceased slowly, and he could enjoy the Christmas lights more and more. When he finished the walk through the lights, even a small smile had stolen itself on his face. Ben added a quick thank you into the notebook before he threw it into the mailbox of the vendor, Rose had specified, and then he made his way back home.

* * *

Rose almost cheered as one of her grandfather’s friend called her he got the notebook. Quickly she fetched it and read Ben’s words on her way back home. While she didn’t know exactly how he felt, because her family was so different, she could emphasize with him feeling so completely different and alienated from the people around him. Also, if she didn’t like to see how he had given up on himself and attaining his dream.

> _Dear Ben,  
>  I don’t think that dream is as far as you make it out to be. If you give up on it, you will be unhappy – and you will be unhappy if you’re treated differently because you don’t want the same thing in your life as your family does and expects of you. But you can only change one of these things. Instead of being unhappy, because you’ve given up AND feel like a disappointment, you can decide to try to fulfill your dreams and be ‘only’ unhappy because your family doesn’t understand you.  
>  I hope I haven’t overstepped with my advice – but I think there is more value in embracing your difference than in trying to fit in. Do what you love, not fight with what makes you unhappy._
> 
> _My dream is very similar to yours. I need little more in life, then security, happiness and home with the people I love. I want my own little shop, maybe a small café where I offer knit courses in the evening – or similar diy events. I want to come home to my husband and my kids and spent time with them. I don’t need anything big, just my own family, just like you wish for.  
>  I don’t want to feel alone, but instead I want to connect to someone through the things we both love. I want to be respected in a relationship, because my partner values the person I am. I want him to have a similar perspective on the grand things of life – on injustice and what is right. I want to stand in the kitchen with him and make dinner together. And all that stuff like that._
> 
> _What is one thing you’d want to change about your childhood?_

Rose was very happy with her answer to Ben. She wasn’t fully convinced in the beginning of their messaging – maybe even almost completely unconvinced, Rose admitted to herself – but she liked it more and more.

She also found Ben’s idea of leaving the notebook at their favorite restaurants, where they would eat the other’s favorite food wonderful – she’d never heard of the small restaurant Ben told her of: L’Île Au Blé Noir, but she was excited to try it out.

* * *

Ben retrieved the notebook from his favorite Creperie in the 14th arrondissement and read Rose’s answer, while sitting down and eating his own crepe. He actually liked her advice regarding his dreams and his family, even if Ben didn’t know if he had the strength to actually follow it. And as he read her dreams, a strange sense of excitement settled down in his stomach and he couldn’t stop the spreading smile that formed on his face. Rose and he had very similar things they wanted from life, and that fact made Ben unbelievably happy.

But before he answered Rose, he looked up the bakery she told him to go to: Dupain. He decided to go there first and write there, while eating the meal she had prepared for him.

> _I actually liked your advice – even if I don’t know if I am able to follow it.  
>  I think your dream of your future is a very beautiful one – to say anything else would be hypocritical regarding its similarity to my own. I hope at least one of us gets to fulfill their dream._
> 
> _If I could change a thing about my childhood, I think it would be something from the time where I was 11 to 15 years old. These years were harsh on me. My looks were all unmatching, because I had weird growth spurts. I developed strange hobbies like calligraphy. I fit in less and less. I got angry and angrier. I had fights with my parents, my teachers, my uncles.  
>  My parents send me to live with my uncle Luke – the former army member. At the beginning, it wasn’t easy to be discarded like that, but there was also the gain of some freedom by living with Luke. But he changed. He treated me less like his nephew and more like an unwanted houseguest. It escalated, and I was sent back to my parents.  
>  Then I finally reunited with my best friend – I found other people, too, who were distracting me. I found an escape in books and movies. Nowadays, I have control over my temper and anger issues are a thing of the past. But the sense of loneliness has increased – besides Finn, my best friend – I don’t really have any friends, just people I have to spend time with from time to time. But it is what it is – maybe it will change in the future, maybe not…  
>  I just wish I could change these four years, that seem to have led me onto a path, that I can’t leave anymore. I wish the tantrums hadn’t happened, my family wouldn’t have sent me away, my uncle wouldn’t have ignored me, and so on and so on._
> 
> _What is your thing of your past, that you want to change?_

* * *

A tear escaped Rose’s eyes as she read Ben’s words. She could see how he tried to hold back the pain of these years, the loneliness, the broken child inside of him. Rose knew what loss felt like, and she could feel that Ben had experienced something similar – only that the people he felt alienated from were still alive, which would make this experience at the same time worse and better. Worse, because he felt it again and again, and his family chose to not rectify this mistake day for day. Better, because there still was hope – as long as they were alive, they could change this situation, could heal the wound.

> _Dear Ben,  
>  Reading your words, I want to comfort you, but because of our rules I can only offer you my ear and my words. It must be hard to be left alone day for day, because your family is still alive and decide not to reconnect with you, their son! But I hope – especially because they are alive – that at some point, the situation will change. I understand if you have lost any hope, but I will have that hope for you, if you allow me._
> 
> _I would like to change an event from when I was nine years old. Similar to you, I was different from my peers, too. I looked different; they told me I smelled different. I had different traditions. But I desperately wanted to make friends – and it was the time of friendship bracelets. There was this big dance at the end of the school year, and I thought making bracelets for all my classmates would give me at least a few friends._
> 
> _I chose the colors for my friendship bracelets that no one else had chosen. I wanted to make them special. And then I went to the dance, but no one wanted to take one of these bracelets from me, everyone rejected me and made fun of me. Everyone but one person: Hux. He was such a pretty boy, and popular, too. He came to me and ASKED for a bracelet. And I gave him one._
> 
> _But only ten minutes later, I saw him standing together with his friends, making fun of me, making fun of my bracelet. Then he threw it on the ground, stepped on it. Gladly, they all left, and I could retrieve it. It was dirty, and I cried so hard, a teacher had to call my grandfather to take me home. After the school year, I left the school – never to return._
> 
> _If you could change anything about Christmas, could you create a version of it, that you would like?_

As always when Rose had written to Ben, she felt so much better and safer. Sharing these memories and dreams with him was wonderful and made her feel better than anything had in a long time. Maybe this year’s Christmas would be special, especially because it was so different from the ones in the years before.

Then Rose read the instructions where she should leave the notebook. Then she read them again and swallowed hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want you can come and talk to/follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lutrwsis?s=09).


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